


Dance Partners

by Howlingdawn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Thor: Ragnarok (2017), is anyone really gonna complain about tony stark cheesiness post-endgame?? i think not, oh well, probs got cheesy at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlingdawn/pseuds/Howlingdawn
Summary: Dancing. They were always dancing around each other. The lab was a dance of wits. On the battlefield, their alter egos moved together instinctively. And in their downtime, it was their sass that danced.But that ease didn’t translate to their hearts.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Dance Partners

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @startrekkingaroundasgard's MCU Secret Santa exchange over on Tumblr!

Dancing. They were always dancing around each other.

The lab was a dance of wits, their geniuses coming together to spark an idea and spinning apart to bring it to life. Their bodies wove around each other, sliding by as they made their way from machine to machine in a well-practiced routine. Their voices rose and fell in tandem, finishing each other’s sentences and lapsing into focused silence together. Time fell away for these dances, led only by the whims of their creativity.

On the battlefield, their alter egos moved together instinctively. The metal man swung around the green beast, picking off the enemies that evaded his smashing. When the suit faltered, threatening to drop him from the sky, it was always powerful green hands that caught him, lowering him safely to the ground. Even through the masks of Iron Man and Hulk, there was an instinctive connection.

And in their downtime, those rare hours where they weren’t fighting or inventing, it was their sass that danced. They judged others in tandem, traded barbs with ease, arched their eyebrows in perfect sync. It was the third pillar of their bond, their most lethal act, their lightest pastime, and they treasured it, smiles lighting up for each other.

But that ease didn’t translate to their hearts. In the lab, on the battlefield, at a party, they were one, watching out for each other, supporting each other, relaxing with each other as they could with no one else. They had become the best of friends overnight, and it was easy, and it was good. But they wanted more.

Everyone knew it. Thor could feel the spark when their fingers brushed, an accidental touch hurriedly withdrawn, yet lingering. Crawling through the vents, Clint could see the looks they hid from each other, the soft smiles, the admiring glances. Steve was privy to Tony’s drunken confessions of a crush, aware enough to check he was far away but otherwise absorbed in love for the quiet scientist, whilst Natasha was there when Bruce pined after someone he refused to name but she knew anyway, careful as he was with his words but open with his silent yearning for the man with the blue heart.

Yet it remained the one part of their bond they couldn’t bring themselves to share. Their bond, born of chance and sealed by battle, had already overcome so much, made them stronger and happier together despite tragic pasts that still haunted their every step, but this was one bridge neither man could bring himself to cross, held back by the conviction that neither deserved the other.

They were wrong, of course. In a universe of potential partners, their souls seemed made for each other. Tony’s boldness paired with Bruce’s introversion, drawing out the confidence in Bruce and the softness in Tony. The separate but similar geniuses that allowed them to speak a language few shared while teaching each other something new every day. Their desire to protect uniting them both in the lab and on the battlefield, defending innocents while keeping the other from going too self-sacrificially far. The pure light that filled them both, shadowed by brutally unfair amounts of darkness, but together they still shone, perhaps even brighter than before, certainly brighter than when they were alone.

They didn’t see this, bogged down as they were by feelings that they were unlovable, that the other deserved someone who could give them everything. No amount of nudging or pushing from the others, from Pepper or Rhodey or Betsy or Jarvis, could get either man to complete the dance, to take that first step across the bridge into the other’s arms. _Maybe tomorrow,_ they would say, to themselves and the others, their nerves failing them, their darkness overcoming them every time tomorrow came.

For three years, it became their norm.

Until Bruce disappeared and their dance was cut short.

Tony knew then what he’d lost, what he’d given up with his silence. He drank himself to the bottom of bottle after bottle, screaming at any god who would listen, begging them to give him one more chance, one that he swore he wouldn’t squander. He missed their dance with a keenness that tore his heart open, the battlefield and the lab and everywhere in between feeling empty, lonely without Bruce at his side. He fell into darkness, saved from being completely consumed only by a nerdy kid that he knew Bruce would have loved, and sold the tower, moving into a space Bruce had never touched.

It didn’t help.

When Bruce awoke two years later, when he put the pieces together, his first thought was a gasp of _Tony_. Thor was there, Thor was helpful, Thor was a welcome, familiar presence amongst the chaos of Sakaar, but he wanted- no, he _needed_ to go home, and he realized with blinding clarity that home wasn’t Earth or New York or anywhere he’d ever been, it was _Tony_. It was warm brown eyes and deft scientist’s hands and the one person who had never, not even in his darkest moments, been afraid of him or the monster within.

So he fought.

The dance of the battlefield felt strange without Tony’s quips in his ears, without needing to watch the sky for him to fall, but he did it. He fought Sakaarians, he fought Hela, he fought Thanos. He fought to protect the innocents, to help his friends, just as he always did, but this time the light at the end of the tunnel wasn’t success, it was Tony.

And he was rewarded.

After the confusion of two missing years, after the terror of surrendering to Hulk with the possibility of never coming back, after the horror of Thanos massacring the Asgardians, Strange led him through a sparkling portal, and there, stunned and the most welcome sight Bruce had ever seen, stood Tony.

“Tony,” he breathed. Suddenly, it was the only thing he knew how to say. _Tony._

“ _Bruce_?”

Tony didn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t. Not after years of dreams and nightmares that had taunted him, shown him the life he could’ve had. His ears had deceived him too, so many times he’d heard Bruce whispering his name in the hum of machines. No, there was only one sense that would satisfy him, that would reassure him Bruce was real, Bruce was alive, Bruce was safe, Bruce was _there_ , and it was exactly what Bruce needed.

So they reached for each other, fell into each other’s arms, desperate for the grief and fear and anxiety to melt away at the other’s touch. Tony tangled his fingers into Bruce’s hair, Bruce clutched fistfuls of Tony’s shirt, and it was almost enough, they were starting to feel safe in a way they hadn’t felt in a long, long time, but it wasn’t _quite_ there. They pulled back ever so slightly, just enough to look at each other, a single flicker to their lips and a meeting of their eyes, and then they were kissing.

Bruce still reeked of death and flames, but his lips were soft, softer than Tony had ever imagined, and he clung to that comfort, his arm slipping around Bruce’s waist. Tony smelled of everything familiar, of fancy cologne and engine grease and scotch, and he buried himself in that familiarity, not caring that the arc reactor dug into his chest hard enough to bruise. They held each other, held on for dear life, and the park faded away, the world disappeared, the whole damn galaxy vanished, and in that kiss, they communicated everything they hadn’t said, everything they didn’t have time to say.

The world was ending. Hell, half the _universe_ was ending, and if anything, they were even more flawed, even more broken than before. This touch was just for a second, one precious second, but it was enough. They had each other, and this time, come hell or high water, even after they broke apart to save the world yet again, they weren’t letting go.

They were partners, partners in the lab, partners on the battlefield, partners in love, and their best dance, their richest dance, was just beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> ...And then Endgame didn't end Like That!! Everyone's happy!!


End file.
